Tender is the night
by Bookjunk
Summary: Still reeling from what has happened with their husbands, Cristina and Meredith watch with horror as April plans a party, which ends with Meredith getting drunk and Cristina horrifically sober. Set after season 7 finale. Prequel to Tender is the day.
1. Ladies' night

**Chapter 1: Ladies****' night **

'I can literally think of nothing worse than being stuck here, _partying_, with April.'

'Cristina!' Meredith hissed at her, masking her amusement with outrage. Well, as far as Cristina was concerned she was just being truthful. On a good day April was already a little too much to take and her perkiness would get on anyone's nerves and tonight April's nervous energy was magnified tenfold because she had been made chief resident. Cristina, on the other hand, had not been made chief resident. Nor had she performed a decent cardiothoracic surgery in a while. And she had just been kicked out by her husband. So, Cristina's veneer of cold politeness was very fragile indeed.

'This must have cost her a lot of money and effort,' Meredith whispered, but she was also dismayed at this sudden turn of events. Though, as she watched April flittering around decorating the living room, she was at least thankful that Alex was not here. Sometimes she felt like April couldn't possibly be human. There were three people here who had not been made chief resident, yet April seemed entirely unaware of this. Plus, earlier that night a plane had crashed and there had only been one survivor. This was hardly the night for a party and the atmosphere was downright gloomy. April must possess no social radar at all, Meredith thought.

'So? Now I am not allowed to say this sucks?' Cristina sulked, though she was being drawn irresistibly to the kitchen. There, on the table, stood the bottles April had brought. This was really the only thing that interested her about this stupid party: booze. Of course, bringing alcohol into the house was ridiculous, but it spoke to the adorableness and general irritation that was April that she would think more alcohol was needed.

'We'll just get drunk,' Meredith suggested in a whisper, as she surged forward to turn off the radio April had turned on. Good idea, Cristina thought, except she of course couldn't. Ah, the ironies of life. Meredith seemed to have realised her faux pas immediately and winced.

'No music: Zola is asleep,' she explained. While Meredith explained about Zola – and the subsequent shrieks by April made Cristina want to strangle the redhead – Cristina gravitated towards the kitchen, circled the various bottles and traced their outlines with her finger. There were bottles of beer, vodka, orange liquor, tequila and a scotch and whisky bottle. Also, April had brought limes and lemons. Jackson approached the bottles too, but Cristina batted away his hand. Mine, mine, mine, she wanted to say, but she didn't. The inventory of drinks almost made her like April. Almost. Then she looked at the little umbrellas and party hats and flags and her goodwill vanished again. The girl was clearly insane if she thought they were going to celebrate her new and undeserved position. She turned to say something to this effect, but Jackson glared at her fiercely, so she kept her mouth shut.

April and Lexie insisted on going upstairs to look at Zola, so after what seemed like an endless back and forth Meredith made them promise not to wake her and granted their wish. As they snuck up the stairs Cristina rolled her eyes. Whatever. She was going to start on pretending to get drunk. It was the only way she would possibly survive this night.

'Don't you want to look at the baby?' Jackson asked. Now he batted her hand away, before he took two glasses and poured a generous helping of tequila in both. It looked like he was thinking about making margaritas, at least for her, but when he put down the bottle Cristina picked it up and filled the glass to the rim with tequila. No time for mixing and squeezing lemons and putting salt on the rim and slicing limes. She just wanted to get to the part where she was fake drunk, as quick as possible. As Jackson went into the living room with a pitcher and two bottles, she threw the precious liquid into the sink and filled her glass with water. Nope, you couldn't tell the difference. Then she followed Jackson into the living room and sat down on the couch.

'Why? Because I'm a woman? If you've seen one baby you've pretty much seen them all,' she answered. Unperturbed, Jackson returned to the kitchen. He came back with a knife, salt and limes and proceeded to prepare margaritas. His expertise was suspicious and strangely sexy, so Cristina concluded the fictional alcohol was already clouding her judgement.

'No, just thought you might be interested in your best friend's baby,' Jackson said after an indeterminable pause. _You thought?_ Must be a special day, Cristina wanted to say, but such nastiness was more enjoyable when it was restricted to her inner monologue, so again she said nothing. Also, Jackson might be a dolt at times and he had downgraded from crushing on her to little Grey, but he was essentially harmless. And as much as she wanted to tear into someone right now, she knew that if she waited and let the night and the fake booze do its job she would start to feel mellow and relaxed. So, she decided to wait until that happened. She slowly took a big sip of water.

Deftly, Jackson salted the rim of three more glasses and sliced up a lime. He smiled at Cristina as he put the pitcher in the middle of the table and arranged the glasses around it. For good measure he filled the other glasses. Cristina was completely detached when she internally commented that his smile was pretty hot. Then again which guy at the hospital wasn't hot? Sloan, Shepherd, Karev, Avery, Bailey's hunky nurse, Owen. Owen...

Cristina heaved a huge sigh, which Jackson witnessed. She detested the concerned expression that came over his face, but luckily, before he could say something, the others came down the stairs.

'She is so cute!' April exclaimed. To Cristina's intense horror April sat down next to her. Lexie asked where Derek was, but Meredith subtly deflected the question and started to raise her glass for a toast. Good girl, Cristina thought, until she realised what and who they would be toasting. 'Water,' she mouthed at Meredith when she raised her eyebrow.

'To our new chief resident April,' Meredith eventually said, 'Congratulations.' Cristina felt the urge to applaud her, because it was really a miracle that she had managed to get the words out. Instead she toasted her newfound appreciation for Meredith without a glass of Jackson's delicious margarita. What she wouldn't give for some alcohol right now. Everyone, but Cristina, guzzled their drinks down in record time. Then they all just stared at each other. Perhaps the ridiculous premise for the party was sinking in or perhaps it was because several of the people present simply did not care for some of the other people present or perhaps it was because there was no music. Whatever the reason, everybody seemed to realise simultaneously that the party was particularly lame and it was awkward to watch the realisation dawn in everyone's eyes.

Jackson quickly got up and poured another round of drinks. Cristina noticed he reserved the glasses of Lexie and himself for the last and he put only a little in both. More for Meredith, she concluded and contently sipped her drink in silence. April had started excitedly chattering about how she never expected to make chief resident and even mild tempered Meredith was beginning to regard her in a hostile manner. One thing could be said for April; the rate of her alcohol intake was impressive. Cristina was still sipping her first glass of damn water when April poured herself a third and fourth margarita. In fact, April almost singlehandedly emptied the pitcher of margarita. On the other hand, her speech was slurred and her movements were uncoordinated, so she was not unaffected by the liquor.

'Lightweight,' Cristina mumbled and Meredith nodded at her. We are such experienced tequila whores, the nod seemed to say and for the first time that night Cristina smiled. Jackson was watching April with concern, but when Lexie whispered something in his ear he completely forgot about April. The nauseatingly happy couple expressed their intention to depart, Jackson was saying something about buying a goat, Lexie giggled, and they were gone. April's eyes widened, almost in comical panic, Cristina thought and she made her way to the hall. Suddenly Cristina wondered whether April's excessive drinking might have something to do with feeling the tension in the room. Perhaps she wasn't as oblivious to the moods of others after all. April grabbed her coat and seemed surprisingly steady on her feet.

'Do you have a bike?'

The question seemed directed at Meredith, but she gaped a little at April before answering.

'Yes, it's out back. What are...' she asked, but April triumphantly and determined cut her off.

'I am going to have sex with Robert.'

And she was gone too.

'Who the hell is Robert?' Cristina asked as she got up to grab a tequila bottle from the kitchen. Margarita was nice and all, but she was convinced Meredith found tequila much yummier. If only one of them could get drunk, then she was at least going to help Meredith get really good and drunk.

'Stark from Paediatrics,' Meredith answered. She eagerly got up from the couch and raised her glass. Cristina obligingly filled it with tequila and Meredith sat down. Ah McDouche, Cristina thought and she stifled a giggle. Stark wasn't McDouche; that was unfair. McDouche had been her secret nickname for Derek for so long and it looked like he was now actively campaigning to get it back.

'I feel like we should stop her,' Meredith said and she sounded a bit guilty. However, she made no move to get up.

'That's funny, because I feel like not stopping her will be hilarious. Man, she is crazy, isn't she?' Cristina snarked. They regarded each other. Cristina was beginning to have tender feelings for Zola, provided she would not start crying any time soon. Acting faintly drunk was definitely working, because momentarily her hate for babies outweighed her hate for anything else. And she didn't even hate babies, she just didn't want one. Her tender feelings for Meredith, which she would never admit to having, – then again she would have to be tortured before she would reveal she had any feelings at all – were growing exponentially. Screw alcohol. Who needed it? What would she do without her best friend? Cristina suddenly felt very tired; the night was starting to take its toll.

'I guess it's just us now,' she said and she realised that the way things were she might not be talking just about tonight.


	2. A night to remember

**Chapter 2: A night to remember**

Cristina stalked to the kitchen again before that tender crap could get a hold of her. She banged around there for a little bit, not sure what she was looking for, but just banging the kitchen cabinets felt nice. Not too loud, of course, because she didn't want to wake Zola. But just enough to make her feel less tired and a bit calmer. In the back of one of the upper cabinets she discovered an unopened bag of chocolate chip cookies and she took that back to the living room. Meanwhile Meredith had done away with her glass altogether and was drinking straight from the bottle. She had also settled down on the carpet in front of the couch, as if she could no longer bother keeping up the pretence that she wasn't drunk.

'Remember when we used to do this all the time? When I wasn't pregnant, George was alive, Izzie was not crazy or dying and Alex was still marginally likeable,' Cristina said as she sat down next to Meredith on the carpet and she was surprised at her own words. She hadn't even realised she had been having visions of that. Disconcerted, she tore open the bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

'Hey, that's not fair. I forgive Alex,' was Meredith's delayed response and she was exhibiting some really bad actress behaviour. There were several stages to Meredith's drunkenness and Cristina knew them all. The problem was that they never really surfaced in the same order. There was kindness and sluttiness and weepiness and the bit of theatrical anger Meredith had just displayed.

'Now I _know_ you're drunk,' Cristina said. She took a bite of another cookie, afraid she might gnash her teeth. Alex was absolved; and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Ha! Cristina's face turned red and she almost choked on her second cookie. It was just so typical of Alex to screw one of his friends and thereby himself and so typical of Meredith to forgive him. If it was up to Cristina there would be a long period of righteous anger, but unfortunately Meredith was much kinder. Or it was just the kindness stage of her drunkenness.

'No, I mean it. If I hadn't been all clumsy about it then he wouldn't even have known. Plus, he was drunk and upset about Lucy being a bitch. I forgive him. I'm nice that way.'

'You are,' Cristina admitted. Much nicer than Cristina. She wasn't even sure nice was a good word, because it implied Cristina was nice to begin with. Meredith turned towards her. By now she had consumed more alcohol than April, but the only noticeable difference up until now was that she required a slightly longer response time to anything Cristina said.

'And you like me,' Meredith stated. It was strange, because it was a statement, but also a question.

'I do,' Cristina sincerely answered. Meredith was after all the best friend she never thought she'd have. The kind of fantasy friendship that you see in movies, where women call their friends in the middle of the night and the called don't hang up immediately.

'But not because I'm nice,' Meredith queried as she took a swig from the bottle. It was really a swig, Cristina observed, not a demure sip or a bold gulp. There was a lot of hand-arm-head-motion going on that made it a swig. It also made Meredith spill a little.

'No. I can't just like people because they're nice.'

True, so true. Cristina could never understand how people could be friends with people just because they're nice. What kind of criteria was that for a friendship? Hell, Cristina could even be nice. To be fair, semantically speaking, she could _act_ nice, she would never _be_ nice, but still. In her life Cristina had met a lot more nice people than her cynical world views really allowed, but they were often so boring. They were either the most tedious people on the planet – the kind of people where if you sat next to them on the plane and when they start talking you'd hope the plane would crash – or very sanctimonious about it. _Oh look at me giving money to this hobo even though I know he is going to spend it on booze. You are all bastards for ignoring him, but my comfort is that I will go to heaven and you will all rot in hell. You too, hobo._ Cristina didn't know which was worse, but luckily Meredith was neither and if Cristina called her in the middle of the night she knew Meredith would listen to whatever she had to say.

'I miss George. He was nice,' Meredith whispered. She was now moving into the weepy stage. Cristina liked the weepy stage the least.

'He was. He was really nice. You know who I liked too? Izzie,' Cristina said, because the cookies made her think of Izzie's superior cookies. Talking about George always made Cristina tired, so it was to be avoided at all costs. Meredith regarded her wearily.

'You did? I never thought you really did,' she asked and she cocked her head to the side a little. It was a cute pose, Cristina thought, definitely the result of her progressing drunkenness, but cute nonetheless.

'Well, kind of. I liked her baking,' Cristina amended. Izzie's baking had been phenomenal, but it usually took a crisis for her to whip up a fair amount of muffins and then you also had to contend with Izzie lying crying on the bathroom floor. Cristina wasn't sure it was worth it. Yes, the muffins and cookies and pies were awesome and there were other bathrooms... Mean, so mean.

'Maybe Derek is right, maybe I am a bad mother. Look at me, this is the first night Zola is with me and I'm getting drunk,' Meredith whined. Ah, Cristina had forgotten about the self-pity stage, also not a stage she enjoyed. And the delightful topic changes out of left field; marvellous.

'You're not a bad mother. The baby monitor is right here and I'm sober. If anything is wrong I can take care of it,' Cristina objected and she slid the baby monitor closer and turned up the sound. Through the crackle they could hear Zola breath slowly and regularly. Meredith stared at the monitor in wonder.

'She just fell asleep. I don't get that. She doesn't even really know me and she is in a strange house in a strange bed and she just falls asleep.'

'Babies are... I don't know what I was going to say. I know nothing about babies. They are resilient? They adapt easily?' Cristina asked, but assured by the steady sound of Zola's breathing Meredith had already moved on to another topic. One that was only tangentially related to the previous one.

'It's so good that I'm not trying to get pregnant. Now I can drink as much as I want. And Derek isn't even here to be all judgy,' Meredith said and she toasted Cristina's glass of water. There was a bit of anger in there that Cristina liked, but she knew Meredith well enough to know that when she took the bottle to her mouth again it was to cover up the sadness. Meredith did this thing with her mouth when she was sad and hurt, like the lips wrinkled or something. Cristina couldn't describe it, but she could recognise it and she knew what it meant. This is where her fake drunkenness came in handy, because she was allowed to randomly change the topic too.

'Remember when Callie asked us whether people ever thought we were a couple?' Cristina asked. Even in her inebriated state Meredith frowned, but Cristina didn't react. They both knew she was only drinking water, but the pretending was helping. She felt woozy and a little lightheaded, both in a good way, and drowsy.

'And I said no, because we screw boys like whores on tequila? Yes, I remember,' Meredith answered and for good measure she took another sip. The bottle was almost half empty. Cristina decided that when the volume reached a critical bar halfway the label she was going to confiscate it. Meredith already had two glasses of margarita and she was so little and thin. On the other hand, she had now gotten to the point where every time she raised the bottle she spilled more than she actually drank.

'That was funny.'

'You know, I always thought that if I were a lesbian I'd want to have sex with you,' Meredith mumbled, which was technically not a real change of topic, but it still caught Cristina by surprise. Thankful that she did not have a cookie in her throat to choke on, Cristina answered as casually as possible.

'Of course you would. I would probably have sex with Hahn.'

'Hahn! Why Hahn?' Meredith laughed and Cristina laughed too.

'Because the hate sex would be awesome. Or it could be Teddy, because she hates me too. Maybe more than Hahn because I've got Owen,' Cristina said and saying the name out loud felt like a punch in the gut. She paused to recover, before she adjusted that she had had Owen. Meredith looked at her with concern and she was the only one allowed to look at Cristina like that. She was also the only one who could look at her like that without Cristina feeling awkward or ashamed or angry.

'It has to be a cardiothoracic surgeon, doesn't it?' Meredith softly asked. Sometimes Meredith was able to stun Cristina with one of her clearheaded moments in the midst of complete and utter drunkenness. Cristina was touched by the subtle return to the subject.

'Oh, I'd do you too. You'd be the Brittany to my Santana,' she said and Meredith burst out laughing. Cristina couldn't remember ever saying she'd do someone, it was a very male thing to say she thought, but it felt appropriate.

'You watch too much Glee,' Meredith choked out between coughs and Cristina took the bottle from her and screwed the top back on.

'You can never watch too much Glee. It's hilariously ridiculous,' she objected. Or was it ridiculously hilarious? Cristina's drowsiness was turning into a full-blown desire for sleep.

'I want to be Santana,' Meredith pouted.

'Everyone wants to be Santana, but you're blonde and dumb, so you'd be Brittany and...'

'Hey!' Meredith weakly protested. It was weak, because she was still laughing, so she probably wasn't too insulted.

'...I am bitchy and hot and awesome. You see, I have no choice: I _have _to be Santana,' Cristina concluded and she put the bag of cookies on the table. Her hand had been crunching the content of the bag without her even knowing it. She leaned back against the couch.

'It wouldn't work anyway. I could never call you darling. It would be ridiculous,' Cristina concluded and she closed her eyes. Meredith leaned her head against Cristina's shoulder. It felt nice and familiar and not annoying or creepy, like when people do that on the subway.

'We've been doing a lot of reminiscing,' Meredith slurred; except Cristina only realised the last word was reminiscing because it fit the context. Meredith pronounced it with about three more syllables than were actually in the word.

'That is what drunk people do; they remember other times when they were drunk or talking about being drunk,' Cristina sighed and the weight of Meredith's head on her shoulder was certainly nice, but also out of place. It should be on a pillow and preferably the pillow would be on a bed. As if she read her mind Meredith raised her head to look at Cristina.

'We should do something new, you know, create a new memorable memory,' Meredith suggested and her voice sounded tired too. Cristina knew it would be a struggle to get Meredith upstairs, so she'd better be getting up right now when she was still capable of doing so.

'Let's go to bed,' Cristina simply said.


	3. One night only

**Chap****ter 3: One night only**

'_Dirty_,' Meredith slightly slurred and Cristina honestly had to think for a moment to realise what Meredith was referring to. Ah, the 'let's go to bed' comment, which did rather suggestively follow after 'let's do something new.'

'You've got a dirty mind,' Cristina admonished Meredith, but she said it with a smile. Groaning loudly, she got up and with considerable effort pulled Meredith to her feet too. Cristina grabbed the baby monitor in one hand and supported Meredith with her other arm. Pushing and pulling she moved Meredith up the stairs. At one point, Meredith attempted to check on Zola, but Cristina managed to prevent it right in time.

'I'll go; you'd wake her up,' she whispered and led Meredith to her bedroom. Some of Derek's possessions were still lying around and Cristina pretended to ignore how tears welled up in Meredith's eyes when she saw them. After depositing the baby monitor on the nightstand, Cristina undressed Meredith, who was proving a nuisance throughout, since she could barely stand upright. Sitting Meredith down on the bed in just her underwear, Cristina rooted around in the closet until she found a particularly chaste nightgown, which she then proceeded to dress Meredith in. She tucked her best friend in and turned down the volume of the baby monitor. When she turned off the light she was almost convinced that Meredith would be asleep within minutes.

'You'll come back?' Meredith asked and her voice was so small. They had gone through some hard times together, but Cristina had never heard Meredith's voice sound so tiny and fragile. It twisted something inside Cristina that really didn't need to be twisted any further.

'I'll be back,' she promised and closed the door lightly. Zola's bedroom was not far off and she watched her sleep for a few moments. Zola was quite possibly the cutest baby ever and Cristina had seen her share of cute babies in hospitals. There were crazy people who thought all babies were cute, but Cristina knew better. She had seen babies with scary big heads, protruding ears, misshaped noses or just generally ugly babies. Yet, they always were special. Cristina understood the beauty of birth and babies, though she would argue it was also painful and hard work and sometimes your body never recovered. Owen would probably call it the miracle of birth, but what was really so miraculous about it? Two had sex, one get pregnant, one had a baby. Animals did it all the time.

She turned away from Zola and went into the hallway. Softly, so as not to wake the baby, she closed the door and stood in the hallway. It was driving her crazy that Owen didn't understand that she didn't want a child. If she could understand why people would want to have children, then why couldn't he understand why some people wouldn't want to have children?

It was not about being a good or bad mother, though despite Meredith's crappy childhood Cristina was sure Meredith was better qualified to be a mother than she was. It was not about being afraid or something like that. She liked her life the way it was. Sure, having a baby would make it more difficult to become the awesome cardiothoracic surgeon she planned to be, but it wasn't even about that. A child would be an unwelcome addition to her life, as harsh as that sounds. It would be like getting a boob job. Totally unnecessary and more trouble than it's worth.

And Owen knew she didn't want to have children. She had been perfectly clear about that all along and for him to get all huffy because she didn't change her mind... What was he anyway? Some poor deluded woman, who thinks that after she is married her husband _will _pick up his socks, _will _clean the toothpaste out of the sink, despite the fact that he never did that before. Cristina had always thought only women were foolish enough to think that marriage could magically change people for the better.

Cristina shook her head to rid herself of these unwanted thoughts as she slowly walked back to Meredith's bedroom. To her surprise, Meredith was waiting for her with the covers held up. Obligingly, Cristina shimmied out of her clothes and Meredith handed her a big, faded tee. Cristina decided not to think about how the shirt was probably Derek's and slipped it over her head. Meredith watched her as she got into the bed. They faced each other and once again Cristina decided not to think about how she was occupying Derek's place. Meredith propped herself up on her right elbow and leaned closer.

'You wouldn't have to call me darling, you know,' Meredith whispered. Their faces were so close together than Cristina could feel Meredith's breath on her lips. The smell wasn't even repulsive, probably because by now she was so starved for a drink that even the smell of alcohol was welcome. The sluttiness/flirtiness stage of drunken Meredith was always fairly amusing, but it had never been directed at Cristina, so she felt a bit bewildered.

'Honey would do. Or sweetie pie,' Meredith said and she giggled. Relieved, Cristina sighed and whispered that she perhaps could manage the sweetie pie. This causes Meredith to giggle even more and Cristina laughed too.

'On the other hand,' Meredith said and her face was very serious and thoughtful, 'if we started dating it would give Derek a heart attack.'

'Good idea; let's make a pro-list first,' Cristina snarked, but Meredith's playfulness had vanished again. She slumped against the pillow. Her mood swings are frighteningly fast and I'm the pregnant one, Cristina thought.

'I can't believe he doesn't understand why I gave Adele the medicine,' Meredith mumbled and she wasn't so much talking to Cristina as to herself or the universe or perhaps – if either one of them had been faintly religious – God. Tears were creeping into her voice.

'He can still be mad, after all, I did jeopardise the trial and that meant a lot to us and his career and all the people we could have cured. But he couldn't even muster a tiny shred of empathy for the decision. He said I didn't know right from wrong.'

Cristina wanted to tell Meredith she had never liked Derek. She wanted to remind Meredith of all the horrible things Derek had done to her; how he had slept with her without telling her he was married, the whole 'you were like a breath of fresh air' debacle, how he had called Meredith a whore when she almost slept with George, how he had thrown away the ring. Cristina would say that Derek had probably done some nice things too, but that she couldn't think of anything right now. Meredith would protest that Derek had helped Cristina through her brief existential surgery crisis and Cristina would say that didn't count, because it wasn't Derek being nice to Meredith, except indirectly. She wanted to say how Derek was not deserving of being called McDreamy; he was a McDouche. She didn't say any of these things. Instead she wrapped her arms around Meredith and allowed her to weep into her shoulder.

It was the kind of crying that tires you out. Not very loud but fraught with hiccups and wracking sobs. Cristina shook with her and she was feeling tired just from witnessing the outpouring of grief. She had no idea what she could do or say to ease the suffering no matter how unworthy its subject. Eventually Meredith's crying subsided and she looked exhausted. Cristina wiped away her tears with her big tee and Meredith smiled at her.

Meredith was tough. They were both tough. They would make it, as long as they had each other. It was as if Meredith could read this thought in her eyes, because she leaned forward and gently kissed Cristina. The kiss was nice and Cristina allowed it to go on for much longer than she should have. Tenderly, Cristina nudged Meredith away, because she was drunk and tired and emotional and her husband was a douche and she was in no state to make any decisions regarding whom she would like to kiss. Cristina definitely didn't want to take advantage of that.

'Good night,' Meredith warbled and her head found the perfect spot on Cristina's shoulder and settled there. Cristina did not protest against Meredith's sleeping position. She was too busy examining the kiss and her feelings about it. Cristina had loved Preston and she loved Owen. She thoroughly enjoyed kissing them and sleeping with them. Yet, all these years she had known they did not compare to what she felt for Meredith. She trusted Meredith. She depended on Meredith. More than she knew was sensible. And Meredith knew her better than she knew herself. Meredith was her person. Not that Cristina's feelings mattered one iota. Meredith is and will always be head over heels in love with Derek. Her best friend's breathing was slowing down and her body relaxed.

'Just for tonight, darling,' she whispered into Meredith's hair and cringed. _Darling?_ That sounded ridiculous indeed. Just for tonight, I'll admit I'm in love with you, Cristina thought.

The end.

(***)

The sequel to this story is called Tender is the day and it is finished.


End file.
